


Cut Short

by INMH



Series: trope-bingo Fanfiction Fills 2018 (1st Half) [18]
Category: The Alienist (TV), The Alienist - Caleb Carr
Genre: Canon - Book, Canon - TV, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Strong Language, Tragedy, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14027196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Mix of book and show canon. Joseph kind of likes Mr. Moore, and that’s more he can say for most adults.





	Cut Short

Mr. Moore’s decent.  
  
That’s not something Joseph can say about a lot of people, never mind an adult. But then, he’s not used to having conversations with adults that don’t want to save his soul, arrest him, or fuck him, so it wasn’t as though Mr. Moore had a really high bar to climb over or anything.  
  
Actually, Mr. Moore might be the first adult Joseph’s had a real conversation with in years that didn’t end badly in one way or another. Does he really _draw_ for a living? Does he seriously get paid to do the things that school kids do in the margins of their notebooks, or on blank walls when the coast is clear?  
  
“That’s _stupid_.”  
  
Funny enough, it’s Mr. Moore’s reaction to that, to that insult to his profession, his job, that puts Joseph at ease- there’s a moment of surprise, then an expression of wounded pride (more like a kicked puppy, if Joseph’s being honest, and it’s completely hilarious), followed by a sniff and a hurried attempt to appear unbothered by it. Most adults would have clipped Joseph upside the head for his mouth, most would have called him a disrespectful little shit, but Mr. Moore just pretends it didn’t bother him at all and shrugs it off.  
  
In this life, in this business, Joseph’s learned that adults have certain ideas about how to treat kids like him, a sort of entitlement that says ‘I can do whatever I want to you because you’re orphan boy-whore scum, you got no rights, you got nobody to give a shit about you, so watch your step or I’ll do whatever I like to you and you won’t be able to stop me’.  
  
But Mr. Moore is trying to find the person who killed Fatima (Joseph never called Ali by his given name, and Ali had never called him Joseph), and that’s more than any of the other adults are trying to do. Joseph wishes he could be of more help, but what’s he to do? The whole nature of this nasty business he does is discretion, looking the other way, not seeing what’s right in front of you- that’s how you survive. Apart from what little Fatima told him, what little Joseph has in turn given to Mr. Moore, he has nothing to offer unless Mr. Moore makes a specific request.  
  
The night that Rosie is murdered, that Jacob Lohmann is murdered, Joseph is surprised to see Mr. Moore sitting at a table in the corner, smoking and watching the room with eyes that said ‘I am nervous’ rather than ‘I want sex’, and his trust in the man is further cemented.  
  
Joseph sits down and has a word with him, and Mr. Moore seems surprised and a little alarmed at his presence; he gets the feeling that maybe Mr. Moore is uncomfortable with his business, but really, he’s never known anything else. Still, if Mr. Moore can make money off of scribbling, maybe Joseph can too.  
  
They talk for a bit, and then- after his eyes widen and he looks like he’s seen a ghost- Mr. Moore tells him to stay _right there!_ And then he runs out of the room with another man, and a girl (boy) that Joseph doesn’t recognize.  
  
Later, they find out that Rosie’s body’s been found in the middle of the street, marked up just like Gloria and Fatima’s.  
  
Mr. Moore returns later, looking defeated. Joseph’s usually pretty good at guarding himself, but Mr. Moore’s sadness is making him sad too. He didn’t know Rosie very well, but he feels the fear of what her (his) death means, and can tell that Mr. Moore feels badly that he and his friends weren’t able to prevent it. Joseph cannot, for the life of him, figure out what it is about Mr. Moore and his adult friends that makes them care so much about dead boy-whores when so many people _don’t,_ but Joseph can’t help but feel grateful for it.  
  
“Come with me,” Mr. Moore says, even though he looks like maybe he should be going home and going to sleep.  
  
Joseph shrugs. “Alright.”  
  
Mr. Moore takes him to a bar, and they shoot pool for the evening while he updates Joseph on the case. He tells him a rough description of what the man looks like, and says that he and his friends now think that the man in question doesn’t have a silver smile- he may, in fact, have a defect of some sort, something very obvious and visible that might invite insult and mockery.  
  
( _That don’t take much in this town,_ Joseph wants to say, but doesn’t.)  
  
“So if you see a man with some sort of physical disability or whatnot, do yourself a favor and don’t go anywhere with him.”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
Mr. Moore teaches him the finer points of shooting pool, including the betting aspects of it. He says it’s a good way to make money, and maybe he _thinks_ he’s being subtle, but he’s not- clearly he’s trying to show Joseph another way of earning money that doesn’t involve having sex. Joseph’s not offended; actually, he might be a little grateful, because this is a damn sight more fun than the things he’s had to do for customers before.  
  
When they part ways for the evening, Mr. Moore smiles sadly, claps Joseph on the shoulder and then ruffles his hair.  
  
(This, Joseph thinks, is probably how grown-ups are _meant_ to treat kids, with affection untainted by sexuality or violence.)  
  
“I’m heading out of state for a time, on business. I won’t see you for a while. Be careful, Joseph.”  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
A few nights later, there’s a guy what actually looks like the man Mr. Moore described, prowling around The Slide- but he doesn’t have any physical disability, nothing obvious as Mr. Moore said. Still, Joseph hurries off and rings him up, hopes he hasn’t left town just yet.  
  
Mr. Moore picks up.  
  
And yes, he is _certain_ that the man must have some physical disability, or a marking (maybe a burn scar, maybe a bum eye) that would make him stand out. And so Joseph, a little disappointed and a little relieved, hangs up the phone and goes back to work. As it happens, this very man ends up approaching him.  
  
Joseph doesn’t like the look of him. There’s something _off_ about him, but he’s obviously not the man Mr. Moore’s looking for.  
  
“What’s your name?” The man asks.  
  
“Bernadette,” Joseph says in the girl-voice he uses with the clients.  
  
“Why don’t you come with me, Bernadette?”  
  
Joseph hesitates, because even if this man isn’t the murderer, that sure doesn’t make him _safe._  
  
But he’s a customer, and Joseph has done this since he was old enough to remember. So like everyone who’s done something a thousand times before and is convinced that they can do it _one more time_ without catastrophe, Joseph just kind of nods and follows the man upstairs.  
  
Once he’s done here, maybe he’ll ask around to see if the other boys know anything about what happened to Rosie. Someone must have seen _something_ after all.  
  
And later, when he meets with Mr. Moore, he can tell him more.  
   
-End

**Author's Note:**

> Welp.
> 
> I just saw the latest episode (Requiem), and I'm actually delighted to say that this is one change I'm glad they might have made to the story.


End file.
